


checking in

by dadcastellanos



Series: porn for andi [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Humor, M/M, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadcastellanos/pseuds/dadcastellanos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is late to a meeting, so Phasma goes to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	checking in

"Sir.”

He doesn’t know how she manages to sound so blasé through the modulators on her helmet, or how he can always tell how annoyed she is when she hardly ever changes her tone of voice, or how he totally missed her hailing him with the door comm, but here they all are: Hux sitting stock-straight at his desk, gripping a pen in his hand very tightly while Phasma stands stock-straight before him, gripping her gun very tightly. He stares at her, slowly raising an eyebrow.

“Captain,” he finally acquiesces, once he’s realized she’s not going to say another word until she’s acknowledged. She seems to come back to life, then; shifting in her glorious silver armor, Phasma cocks her head ever so slightly.

“General Hux,” as if she hadn’t greeted or in fact ever met him before. He wishes he could tell her how very little patience he currently has for unannounced guests while he’s busy, but it’s a personal rule of his not to snap at a subordinate who doesn’t deserve it, as much as his bitter self would like to pretend she does. “You are late.”

“Late,” he repeats, voice sharp and equally bored. “To what, might I ask.” The pen in his hand does not move, hovering just above the datapad on his desk. His grip is tight enough that his knuckles have gone white.

“There was a scheduled officer’s meeting this afternoon,” she replies, unaffected by his clear disinterest in having her here. “You scheduled it, as I recall, sir; it started twenty minutes ago.” He blinks. Meeting? He doesn’t remember this, which becomes clear enough in his silence that she moves to jog his memory. “It was in order to brief the higher officers on what our plans are going to be in regards to the raid later this week.”

“The raid,” he murmurs.

“Yes, the _raid_ ,” and now Phasma is losing her patience. She’s likely reminding herself that he is in fact her superior, and that it would not be wise to snap at him as she readjusts herself where she stands. “The planet suspected of harboring Resistance fighters?”

His mind is blank. He shifts slightly, considering her words. Planet of suspected harboring. Did he order a raid for that? He shifts again, leaning over his desk slightly, uncomfortable by her scrutiny. Think!

 _Look at your datapad,_ whispers an amused voice in his mind, the same voice that should belong to the mouth currently occupied. He scowls at it, glowering at his datapad to play off the fact he just started scowling at Phasma. Here’s the information, waiting for his signature. A raid, with two known Resistance traitors marked for retrieval. He can hear an amused chuckle at the back of his mind and his scowl deepens.

“Ah.” Hux’s cheeks are starting to get hot, and he is absolutely sure he’s blushing. The pen feels like it could give way in his hand at any given moment. He blinks up at Phasma, trying to regain some composure. “I assume you handled it, Captain,” Hux finally says, his voice _just_ this side of snide, which is impressive considering he can hardly raise his voice above hushed. “I cannot be expected to be present at every single meeting on the ship, as you well know, and I expect my command staff be capable of standing in my stead.”

“As I have, sir,” Phasma replies smoothly, and she takes the littlest step forward. “I was only concerned for your well-being, as I assumed you would have been there.”

“Ah,” Hux says, voice raising an octave, and he leans heavily against the desk, trembling.

“As you had mentioned, sir, when I asked if you would be in attendance, that you felt it was only proper to be the one to give the mission statement,” Phasma continues on, unfazed. “Considering they were all higher officers and not troopers.”

“I see,” Hux hisses, apparently now unable to raise his voice above a whisper.

 _Speak up, Hux,_ mutters his mind.

 _Fuck you,_ he spits back at it.

“Well, as you can see, I am, _ah,_ ” and he has to recover, so he leans back in his chair slightly, still obviously shaking. “Perfectly fine, thank you, Captain. Only finishing some of the paperwork, you know, for the aforementioned raid, and you can see how that might have- _ahh-”_

_Don’t say fuck._

“Ah. Uhm. Kept me busy.” He’s babbling. He knows he’s babbling, and she knows it, and he’s quickly losing his grasp on this charade. His other hand is tightly gripping the edge of his desk now, in a desperate attempt to steady himself, and the pen is creaking in his hand. Hux needs to dismiss her, but he realizes that if he opens his mouth again he’s going to start panting. There’s that dark chuckle again, filling his head with the matching smarmy amusement, and he kicks at his desk. “ _If_ you don’t mind?” Hux whispers, and he waves a hand at the door.

“Sir?” Phasma asks, voice mild, as if she doesn’t understand his very obvious dismissal, as if she’s only an innocent trooper standing here because she was summoned. She cocks her head very slightly, watching his rapidly reddening face take on a deeper shade of crimson.

“I,” Hux tries, “I said,” but his voice sticks in his throat and he jerks forward very suddenly over the datapad with a strangled cry. His mouth refuses to close as he comes, and he can feel himself drooling ever so slightly onto the surface of the damned pad in front of Phasma and everything. “Damn you,” he finally chokes out, “ _damn_ you, Ren.”

A man as large and bulky as Kylo Ren shouldn’t be capable of folding himself under a desk like Hux’s, but he has easily, and now he unfolds himself just as easily, crawling out and rising to his feet. He licks his lips, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, and clears his throat. “Captain,” he murmurs demurely.

“Sir,” she responds, nodding politely.

“I’ll make sure he sends a message next time.” Ren places a hand on Hux’s shoulder, and the General decides he’s not going to sit up straight until Phasma leaves. His face is too red, and he is properly humiliated, and _damn you to hell, Kylo Ren._

“See that you do,” Phasma sighs, and Hux could kill her just for the amusement in her voice. Damn them both. “And next time, consider inviting me to the party.”

“Of course.”

“Should I not expect either of you at lunch, then?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Very well. Do try to ensure he finishes that paperwork?”

“Of course. Thank you, Captain.”

Hux hears the telltale clanking of Phasma’s armor as she walks away, and the sound of the door to his office sliding open and closed, and he leans up slowly, his face still a beacon of shame. “I hate you,” Hux whispers, glowering at Ren.

Ren smirks back at him. “I know,” he replies with no small amount of smug pride.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be in the kyluxma series I have open, since it was for the same person & actually what I started writing first, but it didn't quite fit.
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr @ dadcastellanos ;w;


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